


Protect the Homestead

by dreamwalking78



Series: Wayhaught One Shots [2]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, I can't top what the show did, No Smut, Set during the 18 months, a short fic that popped into my mind, also you know the happy ending so I didn't write it, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamwalking78/pseuds/dreamwalking78
Summary: The way Nicole saw it, she had one job.
Relationships: Nicole Haught & Rachel Valdez (Wynonna Earp TV), Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Series: Wayhaught One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857886
Comments: 29
Kudos: 132





	Protect the Homestead

**Author's Note:**

> So after watching the last two episodes, my mind decided to write this short little fic. It's not much and I'm sure canon will blow this apart, but it feels like this was possible between Rachel and Nicole, or at least to me. Hopefully you enjoy it as well. 
> 
> Thanks to my wife for being my harshest critic and making me a better writer because of it. FaithSky, thanks for being there for my crazy ramblings.
> 
> As always comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and keep me writing. Catch me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dreamwalking_78) or on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/geckogirl9)

Her head is pounding and her eyes ache as if she had been crying for weeks. Her entire body suffers from a dull ache of working too much that she can’t help but feel guilty for. Each day the list of things to do continues to grow. She’s drowning in emotion, in failure, in loneliness. The only thing that pushes her on is knowing Wynonna will have to be dead for Waverly to not come back. Despite her questionable decisions and impulsive personality, Wynonna would go to hell and back to make sure Waverly was kept safe. A thought crosses Nicole’s mind momentarily, what if she has?   
  
She quickly shakes that thought from her brain. There’s no time for thoughts like that. Her only goal is to protect the homestead. Protect Waverly’s home, and it’s time to check the traps. It’s a mantra she repeats to herself daily. Since the world around her fell apart, it’s the only structure she has in this world. Rachel is by her side walking with her. They have fallen into a silence that both seem to understand.    
  
When Rachel sets a trap slightly wrong and it backfires injuring her, Nicole is shook for the first time in months. “It’s just a minor scratch.” Rachel’s voice breaks through as Nicole pulls her towards the house. Minor or not, there’s blood. She’s injured. Nicole should have been paying closer attention. She’s failed again.    
  
Once the wound is treated, mission completed, Nicole sits there fixated on a spot on the wall. She should clean that. Her eyes lock on that spot not moving. Two hands land on her shoulders, refocusing her to the teenager in front of her. Rachel waits for her to look her in the eye. She’s just a child, Nicole thinks; just like I was when Nedley found me.    
  
“Nicole.”   
  
Finally Nicole’s eyes lock onto hers. “You are doing everything you can and it is enough. They will come home. She will not be disappointed in you. She loves you.”    
  
The mantra adds a new beginning sentence in her head. Protect the kid. Protect Waverly’s home.   
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
The monster returned again last night. In the trap, she found a piece of a Hawaiian shirt. Rachel’s quip about it being a tacky shirt barely registered. Her mind flashed to memories of her father. The only father she had ever known. She saw Nedley welcoming her on her first day. She saw the old man handing her Tucker’s file explaining the long game. She saw him hugging her when she finally found out about the picture. The man that saved her and she wasn’t able to return it. No wonder Chrissy couldn’t look her in the eye. She didn’t blame her.    
  
That night she pulled the Stetson from the top of Waverly’s closet. She glanced down at the carefully organized pieces of clothing she had placed in bags to keep safe, free of dust and aging. The urge to unzip the bag just a little to possibly catch a whiff of her scent was almost too much, but much as it had been for months now, she couldn’t take the chance of opening it and losing what little she had left. It had killed her when the sheets started smelling more like her than Waverly. She had slept on the couch for a week blaming herself for making another piece of the woman she loved fade away. Her aching back and cramped legs were her personal punishment for the transgression. She should’ve slept somewhere else and preserved the bed. She had failed again.

Her hand landed on the white hat, fingers carefully tracing the brim of the artifact she once wore with such a sense of pride. Now it was just a reminder of how far she had fallen. She may have lost the election, but that hat was specially ordered for her by Nedley. When she placed it in her bag it took up so much space, but the importance of that one hat outweighed what she would have to leave behind to sneak it out with her. It was all she had left of him, so she clung to it during the raging storm of what was becoming the new Purgatory. She stared down at the badge on the front tarnished, needing polished. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Its state reminded her of her own condition. The irony was too much.   
  
“I’m trying old man.” She then started laughing for the first time in months tears streamed down her cheek. “Who am I kidding? I’m not half the person you were. You said you saw something in me, but in the end, I let your world fall apart. I let you down.”   
  
Her voice dropped, cracking. “I let them all down.”    
  
She didn’t move when the door opened. She had already recognized Rachel’s footsteps ascending the stairs. When the food was sat down beside her, she continued staring at the hat recounting to herself how many things Randy would have done differently. The town would never have…   
  
“It’s time to check the traps.”    
  
The schedule once again saving her from having to feel too much. She looks over at Rachel as she returns to the hat to its spot.    
  
“Five minutes. You eat first, then we go out.”   
  
Nicole went to object. They were on a schedule. Rachel stopped her holding up her hands. “Besides I have to pee.”    
  
Well, there was no arguing with that.    
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nicole snuck into the barn looking around at all the supplies they had stored there. It was starting to dwindle, which meant another trip from the homestead. Another chance the place would not be protected. Her mind flashed, protect the kid.    
  
Her eyes landed on the old bed. Against her better judgement, she placed the shotgun leaning against the wall. She cautiously moved towards the bed, her mind replaying the ghosts of Waverly sitting there before, so beautiful. 

  
“I’m so tired.”    
  
“I know baby.” Nicole repeats the words, this time adding. “Me too.”   
  
If she closes her eyes tight enough, her mind can still recall the image perfectly. She can inhale and swear she smells Waverly’s shampoo, her body wash. She can feel her chilled skin under her warm touch. She can feel her lips against hers, burning with need. She allows her own hand to touch her neck. No it’s not even close to the same, but her mind is still there in that moment, locked in.   
  
She lays down on the bed, curling her tall frame into the smallest possible form. She closes her eyes, blocking everything as her breathing quickens. This reaction is far from new. It’s more of the new normal as she starts trying to refocus her mind. The barn door opens. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hears Willa’s voice and forces her head up, her eyes open to fall on Rachel.   
  
“Hey, you’ve been out for awhile, I thought maybe you fell into…”   
  
She stops when her eyes focus on Nicole curled up on the bed. Her shoulders drop as her eyes soften. She hates that the kid is able to read her. Then again, trauma recognizes trauma. The kid has been through enough, she doesn’t need to deal with Nicole’s too. That’s why she forces herself up, sitting preparing to return. Rachel instead joins her on the side of the bed.    
  
“You circled today on the calendar.”   
  
Nicole looks up to the beams of the barn. “It’s her birthday.”   
  
“Oh.”    
  
“No one ever remembered her birthday, so I swore I’d never miss it. Wherever she’s at, Wynonna, for all her good intentions, won’t remember. I’m not sure Doc even has a clue when it is.”   
  
“I still celebrate my mom’s birthday. She may not be able to hear me, but I say it anyways, hoping beyond hope there’s a way it will cross the divide and she’ll just know. It helps some. Dinner will be ready soon and this time no kombucha.”   
  
Nicole cracked the first smile that entire today. “Small miracles.”    
  
As Rachel left, Nicole looked around the barn. Would Waverly even recognize her if she saw her now? She definitely wouldn’t recognize town. So much had changed. Yet one thing remained exactly the same. Nicole focused everything she had into that one feeling. The one that still occasionally warmed her at night when she dreamt of their time together. She focused on the positive for once and as she saw the beer tap explode in her mind’s eye, she spoke.    
  
“Happy Birthday Waves, wherever you are. I love you more than I thought even possible. I’ll be waiting.”   
  
That night when she opened the door to her room, she found a candle lit next to Waverly’s photo. The tears leaving her eyes blurred the entire room as she looked down at the note in Rachel’s handwriting. She picked it up reading it over and over.    
  
_ We may not know each other, but the way she loves you could only mean you’re an amazing person. Happy Birthday Waverly. _   
  
Protect the kid. At all costs. 


End file.
